


Up In Smoke

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Series: Black Sheep [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Trauma, Coping, Death of a loved one, Feelings, Other, Past Character Death, Past Fic, Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22352836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: The first time Jack ever felt the world come crashing down around him in flames, he was eight years old."Son, I'm so sorry."Jack’s heart dropped into his stomach, and his stomach plummeted into his shoes."Your parents, they're― They're dead, son. They were killed in the line of duty."
Series: Black Sheep [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608928
Kudos: 15





	Up In Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This (and a few other fics in the series) is basically just... Background and flashbacks. Quick glances at Jack and how he becomes the person he is later.

The first time Jack ever felt the world come crashing down around him in flames, he was eight years old.

He was eight years old, and he was eagerly waiting for his parents to come home from deployment. He didn’t know what they were doing, didn’t really  _ care _ as long as they came home. He just knew, for a long time, they were gone a lot, on whatever deployment was. Now he sort of understood it meant they were working somewhere  _ other _ than here at home. He understood it was dangerous work, that they fought other things a lot.

He thought they were  _ superheroes, _ frankly.

He stayed with extended family―his Uncle Cain and Aunt Courtney―while his parents were deployed, and he hated it. He loved being able to go home to his room and curl up with his mom while she read to him. He didn’t care if everyone said he was too old for that. They didn’t matter.

He just wanted his parents.

They weren’t supposed to be home for another three weeks, and he was  _ counting the days. _ When they came home, they were supposed to be home for the next six months. He’d get to spend the summer with them and they’d be there when he started school in the fall.

He was so excited.

But he knew something was wrong when he was called to the office in the middle of the day and Aunt Courtney was there with someone else from the army. He really knew something was wrong when he noticed Aunt Courtney was crying.

“What’s going on?” He asked, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be answered.

“Son,” Said the army man―he looked like a Sergeant―, “I’m so sorry.”

Jack’s heart dropped into his stomach, and his stomach plummeted into his shoes.

“Your parents,” He continued, “They’re― They’re dead, son. They were killed in the line of duty.”

And at that exact moment, he felt the world come crashing down around him in flames. He felt something in him break, something  _ shatter. _ Hopes and plans for the summer went up in smoke in an instant.

He knew, he’d  _ known _ , that his parents dying was possible. He wasn’t  _ stupid, _ he understood what they were doing was dangerous. That they might eventually just not come home. But he’d always thought ‘not them’. Always thought they were too strong. Too good at their job. They wouldn’t die. They wouldn’t just  _ leave _ him there with Uncle Cain.

Aunt Courtney began sobbing anew―had the sensation of everything shattering and falling to pieces really only lasted a second?

Should he be crying too?

He couldn’t summon the will to cry. The tears just wouldn’t come. He didn’t feel  _ sad. _ He just felt…

Empty.

“Oh,” He said, in a very small voice. “Oh.”

And the Sergeant’s face shifted. Went from sympathetic and sad to almost as shattered as Jack felt.

He wondered why, but really?

He didn’t care.

Aunt Courtney swept him into her arms, and he let her.

Tonight he would go home to her and Uncle Cain’s house. He would sleep in the room they’d made for him, if he could sleep. He would wake up (maybe) and go to school as usual. Nothing would change.

Nothing would ever change again.

He was stuck, now. He couldn’t get away from Uncle Cain.

He was stuck.

* * *

A week later, he attended his parents’ funeral. Everything else was already in order―he was signed into Uncle Cain’s custody and he’d moved all of his things from his parents’ house. The money from selling it, when it sold, would go toward a college fund for him, managed by his Aunt Courtney. The money from his parents would go there too. Their unpaid pay, the death pay, any allowances they’d had… All of it went to him.

Uncle Cain wasn’t happy about it, but as long as the money was put away he was fine with Jack having it.

Aunt Courtney, quietly, at some point before the funeral, told him that she’d give him access to it when he was 16, but his uncle couldn’t know.

He thanked her.

It didn’t rain the day of the funeral, but Jack thought it should have. Everyone was crying, heads down, and it should have been raining.

He didn’t cry that day any more than he’d cried the day he found out, but he wanted to. He just… Couldn’t. Not here. Not when he felt so empty and tired.

(Later,  _ years _ later, he would think that he finally understood why the Sergeant had looked so very shattered at his response. He would think that an eight year old shouldn’t feel empty and tired. Shouldn’t feel like nothing mattered anymore. An eight year old should have cried, been inconsolable, not wanted to believe it―but he’d just accepted it. He’d shattered and accepted it all and gone quiet.)

The world came crashing down around him again when they went home that night.

It came apart in a spectacular mess and only the sound of Aunt Courtney sniffling away kept attention away from him. He still didn’t cry, not yet―he just fell apart on his bedroom floor and sobbed without tears. Started to process everything. Started to understand what had happened. Started to  _ understand. _

His parents weren’t coming back.

_ Nothing was going to change. _

He was  _ stuck. _

And though the house was still standing in the morning, in his mind it had all already gone up in flames and turned to ashes.

(Later, years later, he would think how very dramatic he was. He would laugh. But it would be a laugh laced with bitterness, with the knowledge that, effectively, everything  _ had _ gone up in flames that night.)

* * *

He finally broke completely, finally cried his eyes out, when school let out for the summer.

He sat in his room and cried all night.

He didn’t feel any better, but it seemed like maybe he might be able to pick up the pieces now. He might be able to move past this. For real this time.

For  _ real _ this time.


End file.
